


if you've got the poison i've got the remedy

by shafferthefirst



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Baby Fic, Bickering, Canon Compliant, Cuddling, Domesticity, Drabbles, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, season 5 speculation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-07 11:03:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 9,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6801118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shafferthefirst/pseuds/shafferthefirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles of all shapes and sizes, mostly centered around Jemma Simmons and Leopold Fitz and company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fitzsimmons + Daisy

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a storage pod for when my mind is like 'yes let's write the thing do it now' but then 10 minutes later it's like 'wait wait no don't be productive with the thing i was just kidding', so, take that as you will.
> 
> Title is from The Remedy by Jason Mraz.

Daisy stirs from sleep with an aching body and a head feeling as though it has been shoved through a meat grinder and sautéed on high. She sighs.

 

Must be a side effect of getting brainwashed by an ancient inhuman plotting world domination and trying to kill everyone you love.

 

She squints in the low light of the med bay, trying to regain control, trying to remember before.

 

Her sightline follows the path around the familiar room when it lands on Fitz, conked out in a chair along the wall. One hand is balled into a fist, supporting his chin as he sleeps, and the other is stretched over the armrest and dangling at an odd angle. Weird.

 

Weird, that is, until she notices his fingers are loosely woven into Jemma's, who is sitting beside him with her nose buried in her tablet.

 

She's aware that things have been different regarding their relationship in the past few months; she's overheard a few comments and picked up on small gestures. But this open display is certainly a new development.

 

A development she missed, apparently. She sighs again, a little too loudly.

 

"Daisy?" Jemma asks. The biochemist grins and sets her work aside.

 

"'Sup," she replies halfheartedly, as if she'd simply gotten a paper cut rather than her brain scrambled.

 

"How are you feeling?"

 

Daisy tries to sit up, retells the meat grinder analogy. Jemma winces sympathetically.

 

"Well, at least you're home now," she grins a little.

 

 _Home._ Now that word feels better than it has any right to.

 

"Yeah," she says. "I guess I am." Remembrance floods through her from the weeks before this moment and her heart sinks. "God, I'm _so_ sorry."

 

Jemma cuts her off. "No, no, don't start. We know that wasn't you."

 

"But I could've-"

 

"Daisy."

 

She frowns, but stops nonetheless.

 

"As the reigning queen of carrying more guilt than one should think to bear for the past two years," she says, eyes soft, "I can definitely tell you that trying to balance it all on your shoulders won't help. You need to find release, or it will only worsen with time."

 

Smiling weakly with tears threatening to escape, Daisy nods. "Thank you, Jemma. I think I needed that." She peers over to Fitz, still sleeping soundly, and their clasped hands. "And speaking of finding release, like, a decade's worth of release..."

 

Jemma blushes crimson but smiles anyway. "Oh."

 

"Oh?" She pries.

 

The biochemist tilts her head to watch his even breathing with a fond expression. _"That_ is a conversation for a later date, involving a bottle of wine. Maybe two."

 

Daisy groans. "C'mon, you've got to give me something to work with here! I haven't had a dose of good Playground gossip in _ages."_

 

It's a funny sound, Jemma's laugh. Something that she hasn't heard in a very long time. It seems to shake her from her shoulders up and shines through the skin of her face as she looks down at her lap. Different, but it's a sound she definitely wants hanging around for a while.

 

"Sometimes things just...happen."

 

"Well apparently a _lot_ has happened," she teases, and Jemma gets all moony-eyed and flushed again. "I'm so happy for you. Both of you. Really."

 

"We're happy too," she whispers, thumbing over Fitz's knuckles. He stirs a little, mumbling something neither women can comprehend, but stays under and tightens his grip on Jemma's hand. She grins, swings them a little.

 

That is _most certainly_ something Daisy wants to stick around.


	2. Fitzsimmons + 5 more minutes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the trash chat, with love.

"I think your alarm is broken."

 

Jemma frowns, turning her head to examine it. "Really? What's wrong with it?"

 

"It _works._ " He groans sleepily and buries his face deeper in her neck. She laughs and kisses his hair.

 

"C'mon then," she detangles their limbs enough to move to a sitting position, but he only pulls her closer. "Time to get up."

 

"Mmm-mm."

 

"We have work to do," she chuckles as he groans again. "The samples in the lab won't run themselves-"

 

Fitz plants a warm kiss to her exposed collarbone. "Little bit longer."

 

_"Fitz."_

 

He's kissing along her neck now, mumbling unintelligibly, scruff tickling there and making her squirm. "Ten more minutes."

 

She sighs, letting her head loll to the pillow to give him more room to work with. The ghost of a smile forms on her lips as teeth skim just below her ear and she shivers happily. "Five."

 

"Ten."

 

"Five."

 

"Eight."

 

Her fingers card through his hair to pull his face into to her line of vision. He squints adorably, eyes poorly adjusting to the brightness of the lamp she'd switched on in the same stretch to stop her alarm. She giggles, then shifts back to her serious voice. _"Five."_

 

"Seven minutes and thirty seconds," Fitz says with a nod, his final offer.

 

"Five, or we get up right now."

 

She watches the gears turning in his head like clockwork, grinning smugly to herself.

 

"Challenge accepted. Five it is." His arms slide around her waist and he quickly maneuvers her on top of him, quieting her surprised shriek with his lips latching on to hers heatedly.

 

The samples are eventually tended to, though it's much longer than five minutes.


	3. Fitzsimmons + Firstborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jemmasimmuns requested: FS + first baby is a BOY

_“I told you,”_ Jemma murmurs weakly, kissing his shoulder before dropping her head atop it. She’s exhausted and sweaty, panting and more beautiful than he’s ever seen her. And he would tell her that too, he really wants to, but Fitz is a little preoccupied currently with utter shock ringing through his veins.

 

“But…but Mum’s wives’ tales. They’re never wrong, they-”

 

“But _nothing_ , Fitz.” It’s kind of incredible how someone who has literally just spent the last nineteen hours in exhausting labor and screaming her head off can be as smug as she is now, but he supposes he should have expected nothing less from Dr. Dr. Jemma Simmons. “And now the both of you have to admit that they’re nothing but ridiculous superstitions and there is no factual evidence supporting them.”

 

He’s about to open his mouth to argue, but his jaw drops for a completely different reason, a wonderful, heartwarming, more perfect than he could have ever imagined reason, as the nurse returns with a green and wiggling swaddle in his arms.

 

“Okay, I might, but are you sure you want to discuss that right now?”

 

He moves so that they fall into her line of vision and Jemma can’t fight her illness-curing smile as she slowly moves to sit up, and it’s like a switch has been flicked on inside her head. Light radiates from beneath her skin and graces everything close when she opens her arms. 

 

“No, maybe not now,” she whispers, voice caught in her throat. “I think I’d like to meet our son first.”


	4. Fitzsimmons + Daisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jemmasimmuns requested: FS + jemma is losing !! a competition!! with fitz's eyelashes and his perky butt

It feels like a lifetime ago when Daisy thinks back to first joining the team, the walking on several tightropes between hell and here adding an additional decade to the two and a half years, maybe three, what day is it again? Something like that, she supposes, shakes her head.

 

But the reason behind her quick trip down memory lane is a simple question: when did she stop trying to decipher the interlaced vocals of her two best friends’ bickering, or have they always sounded like a dull roaring in her ear past a certain talking speed?

 

Unable to find an answer, she coughs loudly in the lab to halt their squabble and hand over the tablet May asked her to deliver, and they both snap up to look at her.

 

“Daisy! Daisy will be the deciding factor then!” Jemma nods enthusiastically and Fitz flushes scarlet.

 

“Uh,” Daisy starts, in time with his frantic “I don’t think that’s necessary–” but she holds up both of her index fingers to each of them, and they stop.

 

“Daisy,” she says in her overly sweet and clearly trying to be persuasive voice. “Which of us has better eyelashes, and a better ass?”

 

She asks the question plain as day. Fitz looks ready to melt into the concrete floor, seep between the cracks.

 

Daisy snorts. “What in the _hell_  did I walk into?!”

 

“You don’t have to-”

 

“-just answer the question!”

 

“Fine,” she says as a matter of fact. “Fitz wins both.” She shrugs and deposits the tablet on the counter, spins on her heels and bullets out.

 

She barely hears Jemma exclaim a triumphant  _“Told you!”_  after the lab door shuts behind her.


	5. Fitzsimmons + Domesticity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jemsfitz requested: FS + teaching their daughter how to ride a bicycle

“Have you got your knee pads?”

 

“Yes, Daddy.”

 

“And your elbow pads?”

 

“Yes, Daddy.”

 

“And your shoes are tied?”

 

“Yes, Daddy.”

 

“Functioning bell?”

 

The five-year-old rings it twice, patience drying quickly in her tiny frame. “Yes, Daddy.”

 

Jemma rolls her eyes fondly from her spot on the front porch steps and smiles at her little family. “Come on, Fitzy. Would you put the poor thing out of her misery?” 

 

Nodding in her direction, Peggy concentrates very hard on folding her arms across her chest to mirror her mother’s pose, a very difficult task with lanky little limbs and bulky elbow pads cramping her style, and looks up at her father.

 

“Yeah! C’mon, Fitzy!” She exclaims, eyebrows raised. “Would you put the poor thing outta her misery?” 

 

Fitz looks back and forth between them, flabbergasted, before sighing at their identical knowing looks. “And why is it always the two of you ganging up on me? I’m only one man!” Peggy pouts and crinkles her nose, earning another exaggerated sigh. “Fine, I suppose I’m wasting perfectly good daylight again, aren’t I?”

 

“Yes, Daddy!” She bounces to her mother and tries with all her might to tug her to her feet until Fitz lifts the little girl by the waist to assist her, pressing a quick kiss to Jemma’s lips when she joins them at eye level and rubbing his knuckles into Peggy’s sky blue helmet when she squeals.

 

The task isn’t met without a few bumps and scrapes and tears. But when the sun shows its finer colors while they’re curled up together on the top step, watching their daughter brave laps around the driveway, they know every scratch their bodies have ever endured (that couldn’t be solved with a Monsters Inc band-aid and a Mummy kiss or two) was worth it, if only for this view.


	6. Fitzsimmons + Home Improvements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blake-wyatt requested: fitzsimmons + home improvements

“Alright, I mean it this time. On _three.”_

 

“Okay, okay– _wait_. Are we going on three or afterwards?”

 

“Ugh,” Jemma huffs, eyebrows narrowing. “When has anyone ever actually used _after three_  when they clearly stated _on three_?” He mumbles something about wanting to be precise, (she knows he’s just being a shit) but lifts his end on her count anyway; the dresser soon joins the rest of the furniture cramped in the living room with only mild swearing, a little stumbling, and a lot of luck in the maneuvering process.

 

Fitz collapses not unlike a starfish on the new hardwood after covering every square inch with tarp while Jemma returns with two cans of paint, dropping a brush into his open palm. “Ready?”

 

In hindsight, it would have been much smarter to remove and replace the carpet with shiny smooth bamboo flooring _after_  repainting their bedroom, but they have always had a knack for doing things great and small out of order. Their cottage shouldn’t be any different.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he moves to his feet and they jump right in, weaving in and out of each other’s paths and rightening sloppy edges along the way. Unsurprisingly, a crooked pale blue line ends up dividing the room into two halves at some point. They struggle to fill their sides before the other while keeping it neat at the same time, Fitz stretches his roller to her half to be a shit again and Jemma flicks paint on his nose, which he nuzzles into her cheek and neck to make her squeal.

 

“Not bad, I’d say,” he whispers some time later from the middle of the floor where they sit to admire their handiwork.

 

“I concur,” she says back, cheek on his shoulder. “But don’t forget, we still have to put everything back.”

 

He groans. “I don’t suppose you’re up for making a pallet of blankets for the night, are you?”

 

Pondering for a moment, she grins. “Make that a blanket fort, and you’ve got a deal.”


	7. Fitzsimmons + First baby is a girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> youremorethanthatjemma requested: to counteract eva's satanic act, how about fitz constantly saying their baby's a girl and jemma insists they have no way of knowing and then fitz being so smug when he's right?

“Would you like to know the sex?”

 

Jemma claps a hand over her husband’s mouth before a snarky answer can roll off his tongue. “Please.” He makes a nose of disapproval, but she beams at the ultrasound technician nonetheless.

 

The graying woman smiles at the pair and moves the wand over her swollen abdomen, goosebumps rising there from the cold gel smearing further along. Jemma releases Fitz’s face and settles for squeezing his fingers in hers instead.

 

“Wait for it…wait for it…” he whispers, earning a nudge to the ribs.

 

“And…” she squints up at the screen, and then back at the parents-to-be. “Congratulations. It’s a girl.”

 

Jemma’s jaw drops. Before she can manage out a gasp, Fitz thrusts a fist in the air triumphantly.

 

“I knew it! I _knew_ it!” He presses quick little kisses along the side of her face, some missing entirely and landing in her hair and ear from excitement. She rolls her eyes fondly at his antics.

 

“I didn’t say we _weren’t,_  Fitz! I simply stated that the chances of having a boy are _just_ as likely so you shouldn’t jump to conclusions without evidence!”

 

“Honestly I don’t care what you say,” he mumbles against her lips as he swoops down to shut her up with a searing kiss. “Our daughter’s going to be so beautiful and kind and brave and bloody _brilliant_  and magnificent, just like her mum. She’s already all of those things. God, _Jemma_. Our _daughter.”_

 

It might have been a lucky guess (a completely uneducated guess based on a few useless superstitions), but it doesn’t change the warmth pooling in her stomach as he rambles on about their daughter to be. And she’ll never in a million years admit to secretly hoping for the same outcome too.


	8. Fitzsimmons + Visiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous requested: fs + visiting Jemma's family for the first time as a couple

“Aren’t you nervous?” It’s a simple question, one she asks him while they stroll up her long childhood driveway together (for perhaps the hundredth time) gloved hand in hand (definitely for the first time). Fitz shrugs.

 

“Not really.” He meets her surprised eye. “Maybe a little, but no, not really. Are you?”

 

“What? _Me?”_ Jemma splutters, trying to be offended. Really trying. “Absolutely not! I wouldn’t—” but he gives her that  _look_  and she trails off, chuckling and butting her nose into the fabric covering his shoulder to warm it up as they walk.

 

He asks her why, out of everything she’s seen, the thought of coming forward to her parents about the inevitable change in their relationship has her fingers trembling, (if their reaction is anything like his mum’s the week before, then they’ve known it was coming much longer than they did) but she doesn’t seem to have a logical answer. But logic and reason have been tossed to the wind when it comes to the two of them time after time.

 

Logically, the chilly Sheffield air should have _much_ more to do with the redness in her cheeks than her best friend turned boyfriend merely speaking to her, swinging their hands and squeezing her fingers. She briefly wonders if she’ll ever stop swooning like a bloody school girl, despite the four months of establishment behind them already, when Fitz stops at the bottom of the stairs and catches her cold lips in a warm kiss, halting her thoughts altogether. 

 

“Nothing to worry about, yeah?” he asks when they part, the softness of his glove brushing snow off her cheek. 

 

Jemma nods, leaning in for another, when the door swings open to reveal knowing smiles and, good lord, there’s no turning back now. 


	9. Fitzsimmons + Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous requested: FS + '...why is there a dog in our bathtub?'

More often than not, Jemma Simmons prides herself on her lifelong history of waking up before everyone else around her. It allows a blissful moment or two of calm solitude before the storm of whatever the day could bring. She’s done it for years, but many of these personal moments were lost rather than found with the storms turning into hurricanes as her ever-changing world grew more and more dangerous.

 

But, here and now? In a little cottage in Perthshire, not too big and not too small and without the weight of the world on her shoulders, her favorite pre-morning ritual involves Fitz, her other half who, though the path has been a jagged one, has stood by her side in the eye of even the worst of storms. Even after their two years spent  _together_ together, Jemma still likes to take the time to memorize his sleeping face as calm and peaceful as she’s ever seen it, as if to counteract the monsoons it’s witnessed head on. 

 

So when she stirs from slumber with fluttering eyes and pointed toes, naturally she allows herself to bask in this quiet moment and simply take him in. He’s all messy curls and steady breaths and lashes longer than they have any right to be and hers and _hers_. She watches him for another five, ten, thirty seconds before giving in and pressing kisses along his jaw.

 

Fitz mumbles something incoherent, rolling to his side to chase the sensation. Chuckling softly, she starts kissing his cheeks and forehead and eyelids and the bridge and tip of his nose. He whines, blindly moves his face towards hers as best as he can with closed eyes to capture her lips with his lazily. 

 

“Morning,” she murmurs against him. Fitz echoes the word roughly; she lets out a little squeak when his fingers skim over her side and beneath his faded tee she stole long ago, and she gets the _tiniest_ peek of blue in the morning light from his eyes just cracking open before he closes them again, tugs her flush against him. 

 

Jemma can’t fight her lips curving into a grin when his tongue grazes hers, even though it makes it much harder to kiss him; she rolls them over, sliding a leg between his and thumbing at his jaw, and she then decides _exactly_ how she wants to spend this blissful early morning—when a sharp, high-pitched yelp jolts them both wide awake and all traces of arousal disappear.

 

Frozen, they wait just a beat. There it is again. And again.

 

It takes her much longer to put two and two together than she’s willing to admit. She sits up, half on his stomach. “Um.”

 

“Shit.” He tries to hide his face in the pillow but she pulls him out.

 

“Fitz? Um… _why_ is there a dog in our bathtub?”

 

Peeking at her between his fingers covering his face, he groans and squeezes his eyes shut. “Well, it was _supposed_  to be a surprise.” he lets out an _oof_  as she clambers off of him and rolls off the bed and dashes to the bathroom. 

 

“See, the kennel made too much noise so I put him in here after you fell asleep, and the little bastard just passed right out too,” Fitz explains, stumbling after her. “I was gonna wake up early and put him in our bed, it was gonna be _really_  romantic and heartwarming, but—” but she’s not listening at all, too preoccupied with cooing and giggling at the tiny, spotted puppy wiggling in her arms and licking at her face.

 

“Aww, _Fitz!”_ Jemma manages out between laughs, noting the red and currently untied ribbon loose around his neck.

 

“He’s a rescue pup,” he informs her, smiling, “so the exact breed’s a bit of a mystery. Didn’t think you’d mind, though.”

 

“He’s _perfect.”_ She shifts him to the crook of one arm and catches Fitz by the wrist. “C’mon, then. Let’s go pile up back in bed and pretend it happened the way you planned. Have to one-up me romantically and all that.”

 

And they do just that, curl up in bed with the newest member of the Fitz-Simmons household with kisses from every party involved. Fitz murmurs _happy birthday_  against her mouth and the puppy intervenes by nipping at his jaw with both paws on his chest and Jemma cannot picture a better way to spend every early morning from here on out.


	10. Fitzsimmons + Domestic Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> youremorethanthatjemma requested: fs's first night in their apartment in the 6-month jump

“Not that I’m complaining about the decorations of choice,” Fitz disrupts the silence, obviously startling her by the gasp she lets out when he locks his arms around her waist, “but shouldn’t we, I dunno, bring in the rest of the boxes before we start that?”

Jemma squirms in his hold. She tries to be angry at him for sneaking up on her like that, but she’s still getting used to how nice it feels to be held by him so lovingly, so she lets it slide with a slight pout. 

“I’m just trying to make it seem more home-y,” she explains. “Have you seen this place? It’s _huge!”_

“To be fair, after getting used to the sleeping quarters of the bus and then the base for so long, our shoddy old SciOps apartment would look massive in comparison.”

She grins, “I’m still putting these out anyway,” and moves back to her task: lining up picture frames along the smooth wood of the living room shelf. There’s one, the oldest, of the pair that she had taken on a particularly slow lab day at the end of their first year, another in their graduation caps and looking starry eyed, the cheesy selfie from their first second field mission, and the most recent, a sweet one with the daylight reflecting off Jemma’s amber eyes and the giddiest smile on her face, mostly from Fitz’s scruff tickling her jaw as he had kissed her cheek unprompted before the camera’s shutter. 

Her fingertips linger on the edge of the last frame, and he grins into her shoulder. “I like that one.”

“Me too,” she cranes her neck to sneak a kiss to his temple before pulling a few more loose photos out of the box, selfies, candids throughout the years, the cheesy photo booth strip they’d taken two weeks ago at the movies to embrace the nauseatingly-in-love teenagers they never got to be for one night…

Fitz plucks it from her grasp and dashes off.

“And where are you going with that?!” she calls, chasing him to the kitchen to find him placing the strip in the center of the fridge door. 

“Our souvenir looked a little lonely, yeah?” He toys with the googly eyes decorating the fake conch shell magnet beside them, the bizarre little thing Jemma for some reason could not pass up at the gift shop for the life of her. 

Beaming, she weaves her arms around his neck, leans up on her tiptoes to press their foreheads together, in the style of the second photo booth picture. 

It’s silly that this tiny, quiet, moment pressed together in the middle of their half-empty kitchen— _their_ half-empty kitchen—is the moment that allows the weightless feeling to flood through her veins. The world doesn’t rest on her shoulders. She isn’t afraid she’ll lose him every time he’s out of sight. The sun will rise ten hours from now and she will have more windows than can be counted on one hand to watch it from. 

Her gaze shifts back to the sappy pictures hanging from the magnet and she feels… _normal._  

“I hate to disrupt what you’re concentrating so hard on,” Fitz says, rousing her from the thought, “but we have no food, whatsoever. Absolutely none.”

“None?”

“Nope. Not one crumb.” He nuzzles her nose with his. “Can we do pizza?”

Jemma scoffs. “Really? You want to start our new lives off with the unhealthiest dish you can possibly think of?”

“I _could’ve_ said dessert pizza.” 

She rolls her eyes. He runs his palms along her waist and starts kissing down her jaw, neck, and shoulder, murmuring a light  _please_  between each until she’s laughing hard.

“Alright! _Alright,_ okay—Fitz! St- _quit it!”_ She swats at his chest, still giggling. He catches her lips briefly, but with enough heat to make her head spin, and sprints to his phone to place their order. “But I want an appropriate vegetable to meat topping ratio! I mean it, Leopold Fitz!”

But if there does happen to be a handful of bacon bits more than spinach leaves, she might let that slide too. Just this once.


	11. Fitzsimmons + Adopting a dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> youremorethanthatjemma requested: fs adopting a dog

“Jemma Simmons,” she says cooly, smile bright, and extends a hand. “We spoke on my phone earlier. This is Leopold Fitz, my—”

 

“Boyfriend, lover, best friend, roommate, significant other, practical spouse, sun and moon, partner in figurative crime—”

 

“—yes, that.” Jemma gives him a knowing look before returning her focus to the owner of the shelter. “We just found out that our complex allows pets. He’s _very_ excited, as you can tell.”

 

Fitz nods enthusiastically. “I am. Really am.”

 

The older woman beams at them, amused at their antics. She prattles on about the organization and its history as they fall in step around the building. Fitz’s hand slips into Jemma’s as they listen and she squeezes it in return, quietly as excited as he is. 

 

They haven’t left SHIELD, not entirely. They’re merely assets ready when called for a little ways from the base. It’s not Perthshire, there are rowdy neighbors and low water pressure and an oven that burns the cookies every single time without fail (though the latter might have more to do with certain distractions called _each other_ ), but it’s home. Safety. Permanence. 

 

 _And what better way to establish that permanence,_ Jemma had prompted the week before, _than with a dog in need of it as much as we?_

 

“Look at their little faces!” Fitz says some time later, kneeling before the first enclosure.

 

“We discussed this, love,” she tuts. “We’re not getting a lap dog!”

 

He huffs back at her. “But _look_ , Jemma. They’re so tiny and fluffy, like little puff balls running around!”

 

“I want one I can run around the block with.”

 

“ _I_  can run with you.”

 

 _“You_ can’t keep up. And if you continue to fall in love with each one we’re shown, we’ll be here all day. Now, c’mon!” She tugs him to his feet and weaves an arm through the crook of his elbow. “We have _plenty_  more to see.” He pouts, but goes along with her. 

 

Does he fall for every set of warm eyes he sees? He does. Does she make up a joke about the poodles and his hair? She does. Do they get distracted by the four week old litter of beagle puppies and sit in the middle of the room for forty minutes? Oh, yes, they do.

 

At long last, they’re introduced to Annie. She’s a sweet labrador and pitt bull mix with doe eyes and a broken heart from her kennel-mate of two years getting adopted last week, and the mutual agreement that they won’t be leaving without her goes unspoken when she wiggles and stretches across both of their laps simultaneously so that not one hair on her body touches the ground.

 

“Alright, Annie!” Jemma grins widely, kissing the tip her wet nose before turning around to face the wheel, as Fitz had opted to sit in the backseat with their new friend. “Let’s go home.”


	12. Fitzsimmons + Photo booth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a prequel to chapter 10, requested by the sandpenis group chat

It catches her eye as they round the corner towards the exit, nothing but a hearty discussion of the film they just watched and their swinging joined hands in the space between them. Fitz has the popcorn bucket tipped towards his face with his free arm, trying to eat the remaining pieces at the bottom without having to release her before giving up and tossing it in the trash. She laughs at the gesture nonetheless.

 

He’s happily babbling about the schematics of Holtzmann’s weaponry when she notices a young couple, probably no older than seventeen, crawling out of the photo booth with giddy smiles on their faces. Jemma watches them laugh at the strip of pictures, arms around each other, so fondly that she doesn’t realize she’s stopped dead in the walkway until Fitz is yanked back from their clasped hands. 

 

“Um, and we’re stopping then. Alright.”

 

She hardly hears him. “What?”

 

“Hey, now, Earth to Jem,” he waves a hand in front of her and she finally seems to regain her focus. “There you are. Ready to go now?”

 

“Yeah, sorry,” she smiles, then turns back to watch the kids leave arm in arm and full of lightness and hope. “Wait, no, not yet actually.” 

 

Puzzled, he follows her lead until he sees what she’s after, and only _then_  does he smirk and skip ahead of her, opening the curtain when she catches up. “After you.” Jemma raises an eyebrow and he scrambles in after her. Or, well, attempts to. “Damn. Not very spacious, don’t you think?”

 

“Well it _was_ designed for prepubescent teenagers, Fitz.”

 

“Like we’re much bigger than them. And this was _your_ idea, I believe.”

 

 _“Alright._ Hold on, I’ll just,” She stands slightly so he can slide all the way in before settling atop his lap. “Better?”

 

“Much,” he grins, looping his arms around her. They select a cheesy filter with red and white hearts and the timer starts automatically. “Oh, okay. Right to it then. What are we—”

 

“Funny faces!” Jemma chips. She quickly crosses her eyes and drops her lower lip, and he tilts his head back in a confused expression, looking at her, as the flash goes off.

 

“I think I blinked.” He hardly has the time to dwell on it, as the countdown from five starts up again. “Let’s do something, ah, gross and adolescenty.”

 

“That’s not a word, but okay then.” Shifting a little, she touches his forehead with hers, grinning stupidly, and he follows suit just in time. “Gross enough?”

 

“Perhaps, but we can do better, like…” Fitz responds slowly, mischievously, waiting until the countdown beeps thrice, and suddenly starts tickling her waist. As expected, she shrieks and wobbles in surprise, locking her elbows around his neck to keep herself balanced and giggling wholeheartedly with the third flash. “Live-action swooning like a smitten schoolgirl. What’s grosser than that?”

 

Cheeks still red when she catches her breath, Jemma smirks down at him. “Oh, I can think of something.” 

 

Before he can even ask, she kisses him soundly, and his hand shoots up to cup her cheek just in time for the final shutter. 


	13. Fitzsimmons + Naley AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cindy requested a naley au :)

Jemma sighs, peering around at all the empty tables she’s cleaned at least three times each in the past two hours, and pillows her head in her arms on one of them. 

 

In hindsight, reopening Melinda’s Cafe with Bobbi was a spectacular idea, both financially and nostalgically, and so far it had gone swimmingly. That is, until the insufferable Hydra Diner opened across the street two weeks ago and their once loyal customers left them in the dust. (Honestly, who do they think they are? Shield Hill is _sacred_ territory _._ )

 

Her head snaps up at the sound of the door chime, signaling someone’s presence and pulling her from her thoughts. She stands quickly, ready with her cheery customer service voice, only to find her husband at the entrance instead. Her smile falters.

 

“Dammit, Fitz! Don’t tease me like that!”

 

“Ah, rude,” he grumbles, kissing the top of her head as she sinks back into a booth. _“Someone_ was missing their mum today.” And with that, he removes his spacious raincoat to reveal their infant daughter strapped to his chest; Jemma’s face lights up immediately. 

 

“Why hello, Charlie bug!” she coos happily, pecks her soft forehead and nose, and then turns to Fitz with a wince. “I’m sorry, I know I’m irritable. We just haven’t had a customer all afternoon, aside from Hope’s plate of pancakes before school that she _insisted_  on paying with her allowance.” Neither can’t help but smile at the thought of the eight year old’s stubbornness, which was evidently passed down from both of them. “I’m just at my wit’s end, that’s all.”

 

“Maybe they’re just waiting for open mic night,” he suggests lightly.

 

“If anyone even shows up,” she pouts.

 

“Sure, like _anyone_ would miss the opportunity to see _Jemma Fitz-Simmons_ live, free of charge. Aside from dinner and possibly dessert—”

 

_“Right.”_

 

“—plus you and Bobbi have stapled flyers to every bulletin board, streetlight, and forehead in town—”

 

“Very funny.”

 

“—and I’m pretty sure Hunter made a poster for the back of the twins’ stroller—” She laughs then, and Fitz grins at the sound of it. “Point is, no one in their right mind would miss it, alright?”

 

She bumps his side with her shoulder and tickles Charlie’s tiny feet. “If only _you_ could sing, sweetheart. I’m sure people would travel from anywhere to see that.”

 

Peering over to the small setup in the corner, a mischievous smirk spreads across his face. “Who says she can’t?” Before Jemma can question it, he’s already setting her guitar aside and typing something into the laptop there. 

 

It really shouldn’t surprise her when “Mahna Mahna” from _The Muppets_ start to play through the speakers. It really shouldn’t, even more so when he dramatically mouths the deeper voice and in turn points the microphone to the barely conscious baby for the backup singers’ parts, but it does nonetheless. She bursts into giggles and applauds them and for the first time in the past two weeks, her business rival is the last thing on her mind.


	14. Fitzsimmons + 60

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eva requested: things you said when my head was between your legs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry

“A little further.”

 

“Yeah, working on it.”

 

“Then work faster!”

 

“Don’t rush me! It’s not like I have this down to an exact science.”

 

 _“Well,_ it’s not like you’re unfamiliar with the territory. How much harder can it be?”

 

Fitz pops his head up from between her bent knees to frown at her. “Jemma. I _know_  you’re not comparing me checking how  _dilated_  you are for _bringing our unborn child into the world_  to me _getting you off.”_

 

 _“Ugh,”_  Jemma grimaces, temporarily distracted by the increasing pressure in her abdomen to scold him, “I’m going to call May back in here to help again, as you can’t seem to perform such a _simple_ task.”

 

“We wouldn’t even be _in_ this mess if you weren’t so stubborn; we should’ve gone straight to the hospital when you—”

 

“Women can stay in active labor for _days_ , Fitz! Especially in first pregnancies! I’m not about to waste precious lab time on my arse in a _hospital.”_

 

“Yep, you really nailed that one. Now you’re about to give birth in the med bay of that precious lab of yours.” He gives her an encouraging nod dripping with sarcasm, but it goes unnoticed, as Jemma lets out another shout that is one part exasperation and two parts pain. Fitz snaps out of it altogether and finally does what he’s told, followed by a sharp gasp. “Shit. Okay. Okay, May? Are you there? I think she’s ready.”

 

They’re curled up on the cot together some time later, after their merry band of well-wishers resumed saving the world and the new parents are left alone in this quiet moment with _their_  world, when Jemma speaks again.

 

“It’s kind of poetic, wouldn’t you say?”

 

He cranes his neck to look at her, all sweaty-haired and red-faced and beautiful, expectantly.

 

“Our first kiss was in this lab, just out there,” she murmurs, running a knuckle over the baby’s pink cheek as she suckles softly, “and our daughter made her big debut here too. It’s a nice parallel, I think.”

 

Fitz chuckles into her shoulder before pressing a kiss there. He wants to make a clever remark about all the science born here as well, but then pale blue eyes suddenly reopen for the first time it’s just _them_  to witness it, and suddenly Leopold Fitz is a wholehearted believer in magic instead.


	15. Fitzsimmons + beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cindy requested: fitzsimmons at the beach together

“Thought I might find you here.”

 

Fitz’s voice still raspy with sleep in contrast to the quiet of the early morning startles her at first, but contentment washes over her in time with the next gentle wave caressing the shore. 

 

“I’m surprised to see you up so early,” Jemma raises a thoughtful eyebrow up at him, “after such a long day.”

 

“Yeah, well, when I woke with all the covers to myself instead of having to fight for them I figured something had to be up.” He nudges her back with his knee before sinking into the sand beside her. “Followed your footsteps the rest of the way.”

 

“How did you know they were mine? They could’ve been from the village crazy, or a mass murderer.” Off his quizzical look, she shrugs. “You never know, they might like early strolls down the beach too.”

 

“Eh, I think you’re worth that risk.”

 

Jemma smiles widely, scooting closer to tip her head into his neck, snuggling closer as the cool water at their feet captures her attention once more. 

 

After a blissful pause, he says, “That and I saw the whole beach shivering from your feet stepping in it, but you know—” and she tosses a fistful of sand at his chest in protest.

 

“Am I going to have to listen to you complain for a whole lifetime?” She tries to say it sternly, but there’s such a sweetness in her voice that he knows better. 

 

He wants to retort, but the slowly rising sun decides to choose her side over his, catching Jemma in one of its rays and suddenly she shines. Only clad in her knickers and his loosely fitting white button down she must have plucked from the floor on her way out, and a few stray flowers still pinned in her hair though it’s a bit wild from slumber and the breeze, Fitz can’t stop his breath from hitching.

 

He definitely cannot blame the star for taking her side in the matter, not when she’s here and real and undeniably bright as she watches it grow with the same sense of wonder she always has.

 

“Only one way to find out,” he murmurs, and tilts her chin with his knuckle to bring her lips to his. The sun warms their skin as their kiss grows deeper, and he grins at the feeling of her fingers covering his, thumb grazing lightly over the silver band she’s quickly recognizing as being a part of him.

 

Jemma shifts closer when his free arm anchors her to him, only to utter a squeak against his mouth when the other works its way beneath her bent knees and lifts her up with him. She quickly clutches his neck and shoulder for dear life.

 

 _“Fitz!_ What the hell are you—” her sentence is lost to the shriek she lets out as they both hit the water with a cold splash. When they emerge thigh-deep, he shakes the water out of his curls and she shivers, indignant. “W-why would you even _think_ —”

 

“Look who’s complaining now,” Fitz chuckles to himself. And for that, she tackles him onto the shoreline. 


	16. Fitzsimmons + 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> waitingforeleven requested: FS + things you said with my lips on your neck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (so this was inspired by a conversation in the sandpenis gc earlier and i thought ‘mm maybe i should write this’ and then i happened to see this on tumblr after being away for weeks and i was like ‘.......ok well fuck now i have to write this’)
> 
> (set sometime in the near future, probably after whatever is going on in space)

She’s waiting impatiently by the landing strip, hand over heart, when the cargo hold lowers, and Fitz nearly loses his footing on his race back to her embrace. Jemma’s arms encircle his shoulders as she releases the breath she has held for quite some time, but it lasts only mere seconds before she’s pushing him back to scan him over—doctor mode apparently activated.

There’s a scrape along his cheek from hitting the pavement after an unfortunate, unexpected encounter with a few Watchdogs, the rest of the fight only resulting in sore muscles and bruising and the wind knocked out of him once or twice, but as expected, she frets over his injuries anyway. And once Coulson gives him and Piper’s team the order to rest up for the remainder of the night, a debrief to follow first thing in the morning, Jemma drags him by the hand to their old bunk.

“It’s just a scratch,” Fitz protests, after she all but throws him back onto the bed before scavenging for her first aid kit. “There’s no need to make a fuss, I’ll just clean it off in the shower.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says without looking up.

“Or _you_ could clean it off in the shower—that would be perfectly acceptable as well.” It earns him a playful eyebrow raise over her shoulder, but doesn’t stall her mission until she’s found it. 

“This might sting a bit,” Jemma warns him, stepping into the space between his legs at the end of the bed with an antiseptic wipe. 

He sighs, “I know the drill,” but lets her dote over him nonetheless. When the scrape is clean enough for her standards, she thumbs over the skin below it with a small smile.

“All better,” she murmurs. She aims for a soft kiss to the corner of his smile, but lets out a happy noise of surprise when he turns his head at the last second so it lands on his mouth. Looping her arms around his neck, she climbs atop his lap and sighs into their kiss as the angle changes, causing them both to smile. Fitz runs his fingers down her sweater, pulls her flush close.

After a blissful moment, she pulls away to brush her nose against his softly, ponytail swinging. 

“It feels strange being back here,” he points out, gesturing to the bare walls around them—all of their belongings being in their apartment off-base they’d moved into shortly after their time in space. 

“Well, you heard Coulson: you’re— _ah,”_ Jemma inhales sharply at the sensation of Fitz tipping his head to drop a warm kiss on her collarbone. “You’re needed in the morning, anyway.”

His teeth graze another spot nearby and she shivers. “You could’ve stayed back.”

“Mmm, and leave you to your lonesome?” She leans back to give him more room to work with. “Not on my watch.”

Moving up the side of her neck, he kisses his thanks against her skin as she dips her fingers beneath his collar, letting out little gasps and sighs when his lips land on particularly sensitive places.

“You know what else feels strange?” She asks. Before he can return from his trance enough to reply, Jemma has pulled free the chain around his neck he’d tucked beneath his undershirt before heading out on the mission, revealing the silver band hidden from any evil goon capable of using it against him. He grins stupidly as she unclasps the chain and slides the ring on his finger where it belongs, carefully, as if it were the first time. 

It’s routine at this point, the ceremonious reunion of ring to skin in a selfishly quiet moment after every op, and each day brings them closer to an unsaid day in the future where they no longer have to remove them, but Fitz can’t help the way his heart seems to flutter every time it occurs.

And by the dopey smile Jemma gives him before kissing his knuckles, most every time she returns it, he knows her heart does the same.


	17. Fitzsimmons + "I think you're beautiful"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by bluepianoguyismael on tumblr!

Fitz drops the armload of grocery bags on the counter along with his keys, toes off his shoes, and eyes the abandoned cup of tea and half-eaten banana littering the countertop. Rolls his shoulders and letting his eyelids lower for a brief moment, he basks in the temporary silence about the room.

Despite having last saved the world nearly one year ago, the past two weeks had been so hectic that the upcoming milestone is nearly up for debate.

After taking a minute to breathe, he turns his attention to the pictures covering the refrigerator door. A cheesy selfie Jemma took of the two of them in her dorm room, their early mission in Peru, a New Year’s polaroid Daisy had wrangled them into taking with her, Jemma kissing his cheek while he squinted flushed-faced into the camera, and a sickly sweet candid May had taken at their wedding reception seven months earlier. Years and years worth of pictures cover the surface, a visual timeline immortalizing their friendship between geeky magnets for them to reflect on each day before breakfast.

His gaze lands on the most recent addition to the collage: a black and white sonogram that is still shiny, even after months of picking up and carrying around and pointing out fingers and features. Fitz grins.

Only a few more minutes pass before the blissful silence evolves into a pang of loneliness, so he moves along in search of his wife. He keeps his steps light as he rounds the corner, and warmth swells in his chest when he creaks open the nursery door.

In the corner rocking chair, Jemma snores lightly with her head tipped back against the frame, and both of their babies sleeping just as soundly in her arms. One is snuggled tightly, protectively, to her chest, while the other snoozes on her lap in the crook of her arm. Pale light shines through the curtains to illuminate the three of them and Fitz briefly wonders what he did in this life or another to deserve to come home to such a sight. 

Quickly, Fitz pulls out his phone to capture the scene before him. After tucking it back in his cardigan pocket, he tiptoes across the sky blue rug to brush a kiss to his wife’s forehead, brushing back the loose hair there and cradling her face in his hand.

Jemma stirs in surprise, holding the twins tighter, before regaining her focus and giving him a small smile.

“Wha’time issit?” she murmurs, leaning in to his touch as he strokes her cheek with his thumb, the motion nearly lulling her back to sleep.

_God,_  he thinks, noting the circles under her eyes and the disarray of her bun, _she’s exhausted._

“Not late, I just got back.” 

“Mmm,” she acknowledges. “I was nursing Alice, but Archie wouldn’t stop crying so I had to improvise, and I suppose I dozed off.”

“Well, at least you aren’t the only one,” Fitz whispers, nodding to their children and pulling out his phone again. He manages to catch the moment she bobs her chin to kiss Alice’s soft head, smiling to himself. “Here, let me help put them down.” He pulls their daughter from her arm while holding his breath, still overly careful, and places her in her crib, as Jemma walks Archie over to his. 

After watching the babies settle, he sits back in the rocker and gently tugs her down to his lap. She pulls her knees up and loops her arms around his neck, tips her forehead into his neck.

“Look at this, Jem,” he holds the phone to her line of vision. “I think this needs to be added to the fridge.”

“Fitz,  _please,_  no,” Jemma groans as quietly as she can. “I haven’t had more than three hours of sleep at once in weeks and I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve had a proper shower.”

He chuckles, kissing her temple. “I think you’re beautiful.”


	18. Fitzsimmons + I'll see you later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little teachers au :')

Fitz is so lost in working through the stack of papers before him that he nearly misses the three raps she places against the doorframe. 

“Have a minute?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest and giving him a sunny smirk. 

“Jemma,” he grins dopily, before remembering the time and place. “Hey, yeah, no—come in.” He clears off a spot on his desk for her to push herself onto out of habit as she ignores the two empty chairs opposite of them as usual. “What brings you here?”

“Half of my bio classes have the flu, despite my  _clear_  instructions on prevention I’ve had on the left board all semester and the friendly reminder email, so I went ahead and canceled the rest,” she shrugs. “Consider it a free study day, or an opportunity for the rest to get the vaccination.”

“No astronomy this afternoon?” he asks.

She arches her brow. “It’s Tuesday.”

Puzzled, he squints over at the wall calendar. Jemma passes him his glasses from where they’ve been abandoned by her thigh. Once clearing up his distance vision, he groans heavily, dragging his palm over his face. Sure enough, it  _is_  Tuesday.

“This is the longest week of my life.”

Fiddling with the small TARDIS by his nameplate, she chuckles. “Midterms will do that to you, Dr. Fitzy.”

“And the kids think it’s  _so_  stressful,” he bites, gesturing to test papers towering around them. “My arse.”

“Here then, you big baby,” Jemma pulls her favorite grading pen from behind her ear and plucks a test from one of the stacks. “Let me help.” 

They sit in companionable silence for a while. Fitz makes no comment on how she grades his material so eloquently, without glancing at the rubric once, because of course Dr. Jemma Simmons, who teaches biology and chemistry at their University on alternating weekdays as well as an astronomy lab on Thursday afternoons for  _fun_ , would also be an expert on quantum physics. Hell, she probably has a better understanding of it than  _he_  does. The crinkle of concentration between her brows and the tip of her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth as she makes notes and marks confirm it.

Fitz doesn’t realize he’s staring until she catches him. 

“What is it?” 

“Hmm?” His cheeks color. “Oh, um.” Jemma gives him an expectant look, and he splutters. “You just, you’re—you’re using a purple pen to grade! Honestly, Simmons.”

“Red is much too harsh!” She defends. “I like to encourage my students to do better next time, rather than shoot down their confidence with a million red marks across their papers.”

Letting out a bark of laughter, he folds his glasses and sets them back on the desk. “And purple does that for them?”

“It does!” Jemma nods, clicking her pen at him. “I always use purple. And as a matter of fact, I’ve received several praises for it on  _RateMyProfessor_.”

“Good to know, because now any students who’ve had us both will know who actually graded theirs.”

Off his comment, she peers down at her finished pile, and it’s her turn to blush when she meets his gaze again.

“Well,” she says, after quite a long pause, “consider it a professional collaboration.”

He hums in approval before checking his watch. “Oh, I’ve got a—”

“An afternoon class, right.” They quickly stand, maneuvering around each other as he collects his folders and she grabs her shoulder bag. Before they reach the doorway, she catches his wrist. “Fitz?”

When he turns at his name, a silent question in his eyes, she pushes herself on her toes and presses a firm kiss to his lips. Once he realizes what’s happening, he presses back, winding his free arm around her lower back.

“I’ll see you later,” she says, a little too quickly, when they break. She zips over the threshold and down the hall, fighting the giddy grin trying to stretch across her face.

 _Well,_  Fitz thinks, _I’ll consider that an unprofessional collaboration._


	19. Fitzsimmons + pregnancy reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: I love your new fic!! would you be up for a prompt? I really want to see their reaction to finding out she's pregnant after they break the loop! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> post finale-ish speculation that I would shit a brick if I ever saw

In theory, the concept of Deke disappearing when they broke the loop made the most plausible sense. In theory, they’d anticipated it.

 

But in all actuality, having to watch their smiling grandson blink from existence in milliseconds just as the Earth and Coulson were miraculously saved by no small part of theirs took a toll that neither were prepared for. 

 

The rest of the team decides to take the night off. They are no longer fugitives, they are no longer being hunted on every street corner; the moment called for a round of drinks at the nearest and shittiest bar each of them had desperately needed to unwind. Fitz and Simmons, however, silently agree to stay back. It has been a long day and they need a moment to catch their breaths without the others around. 

 

Fitz paces around the Zephyr lab, twisting the band around his ring finger. 

 

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” he says at long last. Jemma sighs heavily, as he continues. “I know it makes sense, and he was a bit of a buffoon, and drove me absolutely mad, but  _god.”_ He sinks into one of the rolling chairs, resting his elbow on the counter and his chin in his hand.

 

 _“_ I know,” she says. She pauses for a beat, then two, and then chooses her next statement carefully. “I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him, though.”

 

He gives her a knowing look. “The loop is broken, Jemma. We’re on a whole new timeline that has yet to have been done before. There’s no way to tell that.”

 

“I know,” she shrugs, stepping into his space before settling atop his lap, arms looping around his neck, grinning as his own wind around her waist. “But I’ve done the maths, and I have a new theory. One that proposes that we might see him again in about…” she pretends to count in her head, biting one side of her lower lip, before smirking at him, “thirty-four years?”

 

Fitz eyes her warily. “That’s oddly specific.”

 

“Oh, was it?”

 

“Jemma…” At long last, she puts him out of his misery and guides his warm palm from her hip with her hand, so that it is resting on her lower stomach. The look of absolute wonder that fades into his confused expression is one that she will carry with her, she decides, in the back of her mind, for the rest of her life. “You’re…”

 

“Yes,” she beams, bumping his forehead with hers. “I’m pregnant, Fitz.” 

 

“You’re pregnant,” he echoes, and she nods eagerly. They’re smiling too widely for a proper kiss, but he threads his fingers through her hair to drag her down to him regardless. She hums against his mouth, parting their lips only to immediately dive back in for three more soft pecks, before dropping her head to his neck and grinning when he kisses her hairline in return. Surrounded by companionable silence and swelling with love for one another, she closes her eyes as he strokes his thumb in circles over where their unborn child is growing. 

 

“We have to leave, don’t we?” Fitz asks, after a moment.

 

She sighs, raising her head to meet his eye. “I’m afraid we do.”

 

“The others won’t like it—there’s still a lot of bad blood.”

 

“And they’ll deal with it. We’re on a new path. What a waste it would be, to stay here, when we worked so hard to break the continuity of spacetime for a chance at a better future?” Jemma threads her fingers through his on her belly. “A better future that our daughter deserves.”

 

He squeezes her fingers. “You’re right, of course you’re right.”

 

She smiles softly. “We could go home for a bit, yeah?”

 

“I hear the real estate market for Perthshire is doing swimmingly, at the moment.”

 

Letting out a quiet noise in agreement, she closes her eyes as he kisses her temple, only to burst into surprised giggles at something she hadn’t thought of until this moment. Fitz glances up at her sudden outburst, confused, while she collects herself enough to explain.

 

“We sorted out our feelings for each other, almost bought our first home, went to the future, got engaged, got  _married,_  met our adult grandson, and myth-busted a scientific theory that has been debated for  _centuries_ , and now we’re expecting our first child. All within the past two years.” She wipes at the corner of her eye, snickering again. “Our parents are in for quite the shock when we go home, if I do say so myself.”

 

Shaking his head, Fitz lets out his own bark of laughter. 

 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “when we go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to prompt me on tumblr, @ jemmaswan!


End file.
